


And The Waves Lapped Against Him

by rosetapes



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosetapes/pseuds/rosetapes
Summary: Sprik mermaid au. Jim is a marine biology student studying on a trip in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, when he is knocked overboard and rescued by something his scientific mind is telling him doesn't exist





	1. Fresh Water Fish

Jim Kirk stood staring at the horizon. He squinted his eyes, and tried to picture it edging closer, wondering that if perhaps if he carried on he would tip off the edge into an abyss of blue and lilac sky. The earth was round, he knew that, he wasn’t studying biology for nothing, but there was something so endearing about reaching the end of the world as he knew it, and floating off into an uncertain nothingness. 

“Kirk!” The voice startled him out of his daydream of skies and horizons. “I thought you were supposed to be getting rid of those fish, not staring off into space!” 

Bones, his tutor, was looking at him, flustered, although that wasn’t unusual for Bones. No Mr., no Sir, just Bones. Jim studied the lines of his face. He wasn’t old, early forties at the most, but he looked weathered. Jim could pick out dark pools under his eyes, and his cheeks weren’t flushed like they should be in the sea air. In a way, he felt sorry for the man, but he supposed Bones only had himself to blame for dragging them all out on a boat in the middle of the fucking ocean.

Jim often pondered what was down there, but had decided somewhere down the line that he was fine not knowing. Let the fish and sharks and sea monsters mind their own business, was his motto. So, naturally, he’d chosen to do a degree in marine biology.

“Kirk!” The exasperated crack in Bones voice was depressing to hear, and Jim let his eyes wonder from under his tutor’s eyes into them. They were a startling blue, not unlike his own, and they were angry. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head sometimes kid.”

He reached out and plucked the fish tank from Jim’s hand. Ah yes, he had been holding something. He knew something had been therer, the cool smooth surface of glass in his hands, but in his dream state it had all faded to abstract shapes and shifts in pressure against his body. He stared into the bowl. Two fish lay lifeless, floating atop of the water, just breaching the surface with their gold fins. He couldn’t remember how they died, but he remembered feeling sorry for them. He still did. It was hardly a way to live your life - to live in a lab all your life to then be teased freedom only to just up and die like that. 

Pavel had joked that they should eat them. Bones had shouted at him.

“Uhura!” He motioned with his head to the young girl pouring over notes at the bow of the boat. She reluctantly closed her book and headed on over, still unsteady on the sea. She didn’t have sea legs, she had joked to Jim, before promptly throwing up all over him. After days of apologising, she seemed to have eased up. 

“Yes, Sir?” She piped.

“No Sir,” Bones looked over his shoulder in a fashion Jim could only describe as wild, as if something were to emerge from the gentle waves and chase him. “Get rid of these fish over the side.”

“Shame,” Pavel chirped, passing them holding a damp cardboard box filled alarmingly to the brim with mouldy rope. “I was looking forward to them for dinner.”

“Chekhov!” Bones recited the third name he had a yelled that morning, although this one in particular he found himself reciting the most. “What the hell are you doing with that?”

“I’m making a hammock.” Pavel gestured towards the rope, as if that should explain his reasons for doing so.   
“No you’re not, give that here.” 

Bones slipped out past Nyota, hastily pushing the tank at her and, in the process, allowing the water to slosh over her checkered shirt. She looked down at it in faint dismay, before looking up at Jim with equal emotion in her eyes.

“Is this my repentance?” She asked.

“Your what now?” He squinted, taking a small glance at the wet patch on her ribcage.

“My repentance, for throwing up on you.”

Jim let out a small chuckle. “I told you, you don’t have to keep apologising for that.”

Nyota titled her head. “It’s just embarrassing you know? And I’m not apologising, just saying that I deserve this.” She paused, and frowned. “I’m not sure if my shirt does though.”

“You know,” Jim said. “You’re on a boat. You got to expect to get a little wet.”

“Yeah I know that dummy.” She nudged him gently on the shoulder, careful not to spill anymore water. “But did it have to be dead fish water.”

“You know technically, all sea water is dead fish water.” 

“Well if you want to talk technicalities…”

“I wonder how many whale carcases are below us right now.”

“Eww, don’t. You’re creeping me out.”

“You’re a marine biologist!”

“Yeah! That doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to get creeped out by dead whale graveyards under the ocean.”

“Okay, fair point.” Jim grinned, a real grin. He felt like this whole trip the only time he’d been able to properly smile was when talking to Nyota. She was so positive, and he felt a bit more real out there when she was beside him.

Nyota looked into his eyes. Deep brown boring into electric blue. She leant against the railing, holding the tank over the edge. She hesitated to pour it however, and instead turned to look at him. 

“He’ll fail you if you keep doing this.” There was softness to her voice, and Jim knew he wouldn’t be able to take something so blunt coming from anyone else.

“Doing what?”

“This…” She gestured as wildly as one holding a glass fish tank filled with water and two dead fish could manage. “Thing you keep doing, this staring into space astral projection to another realm of existence thing you keep doing.”

He cocked a sly smile and turned out to look into the distance. “I don’t… do that.” He did, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to deny it in an attempt to seem functional. 

“Oh sweetie. You’re even doing it now.” She peered into his line of vision and squinted, as if he was seeing something she wasn’t. “Earth to James Kirk, are you receiving me?”

Shaking his head, he turned to look at her. “I’m just… a little flaky is all. I’m thinking, a lot, about stuff.”

Nyota nodded faux-knowingly. “Stuff… sounds interesting.”

“It’s just,” Jim continued unfazed by her teasing. “Me and my mom were really struggling - are really struggling - to make ends meet, and to get invited on this trip out of the blue, free of charge. I don’t know, it just doesn’t quite feel real. And with all you guys, it feels all a bit like a dream.”

“Well don’t let that dreaming cost you your grade.” 

There was a pause, Jim’s eyes flitting from the railing of their rented boat and to the two dead fish in the tank. It felt weird having them there, eavesdropping on their conversation. 

Nyota glanced at Bones, now tackling to get the wounds of rope back into the damp cardboard from which they had been spilled, Pavel stood over him as if he were the tutor, not the student. 

“I think he likes you.”

Jim allowed himself a small chuckle. “How so?”

“I think he sees your potential, and he doesn’t want to let it go to waste. You’re damn smart.”

He ignored the compliment, but filed it away for another day when it would be required for some regularly scheduled self esteem boosting. “I don’t think Bones ‘likes’ things.” He said. “I think the only emotions he feels are worry and grouchiness.”

“Well, I can hardly disagree with you there.” Nyota smiled a funny little smile, and tipped the fish into the water. As they hit the surface and faded into the murky blue nothingness that was underneath them, Jim half expected them to flop and flitter, swimming off to their fish families and telling them all about their adventures in the hands of some asshole humans. Then it hit him.

“Aren’t these fresh water fish?”


	2. Stranded At Sea

He wished he could say his dreams were filled with happiness, but really they weren’t filled with much at all. Just an inky blackness, occasionally punctuated with a depressing motif. ‘You’re failing.’ ‘You’re not doing what you want to do.’ He was, so he didn’t know where that was coming from. He’d heard from Nyota that dreams were representation of your subconscious, but personally he just felt they were all bullshit. His dreams were just extensions of his usual psyche - spacey, melancholy, and dull. But he was used to it.

What Jim wasn’t used to however, was Pavel Chekhov shaking him awake at one in the morning. 

“Dude,” He grumbled, his mouth half obscured by a thick blanket. “What the hell is your problem?”

“Jim, there’s someone out there.”

This in itself didn’t phase him, but his eyes focusing on a Pavel completely drained of any colour did. The guy looked scared out of his mind. 

“What do you mean there’s someone out there? How could there be anyone out there we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Jim sat up, adjusting his pillows against the back of his cabin. 

Pavel wringed his hands anxiously. “Well, I was at my post on lookout…”

Jim put his hand up to stop him. “Wait, wait, we don’t need a lookout. This isn’t a pirate ship Pavel.”

“Whatever,” He waved a shaking hand. As much as Jim didn’t trust anything that came out of his classmate’s mouth, he did admit that Pavel looked terrified. “I was watching the stars okay, we don’t get them as bright in the city and it’s… I don’t know… nice.”

There was dreamy look in his eyes now, and Jim could tell his friend’s mind was away surfing the constellations. Jim snapped his finger twice, and brought him back to his senses - his scared shitless senses. 

“Anyway,” Pavel continued. “I was looking over at Orion’s Belt, you know the constellation, and then something caught my eye. There were two,” He gestured wildly with his hands and he tried to discover the word he required. “Things. Just floating in the water. So I though ‘it’s just driftwood dude, don’t freak out’ but then they started talking. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they were definitely talking.”

“What did you do?” Jim was more alert now, his back upright as he peered forward into his friend’s eyes. Were they twitching? In his rational mind, Jim knew there was no way anyone could be out there in the middle of the ocean, and without a boat? That was just crazy.

“I bolted back here, to tell you.”

“Did you tell Bones?” 

“No way, do you think I’m insane?” He glanced at Jim staring into his eyes with a concerned glare. “Actually, don’t answer that. I’m pretty sure he’s on the edge of a mental breakdown, and if I’m just seeing shit, he’s going to crucify me.”

“Fair enough.” Jim muttered. Pavel was right, if Bones were a elastic band he would be one tug away from snapping and catapulting into someone’s eye. “Did you call out to them?”

The look Pavel gave him was something Jim had never experienced from him, a mixture of shock, disgust, and disbelief. It looked a little weird on the face of a character so used to smiling and cracking jokes.

“Again, dude, I pose the question: Do you think I’m insane? What if they’re dangerous?”

“What if they’re in trouble?” Jim spurred into action, tossing on a pair of trainers and a woollen jacket. He didn’t need to worry about anything else. He hadn’t packed enough clothes to begin with so he’d adjusted to sleeping in his daily outfit. It was kind of gross, but he felt since they were at sea he was at liberty to do so.

“Their boat might have capsized.” He walked to his cabin door and reached for the doorknob before hesitating just before his skin caressed the cool steel. Pavel did have a point, what if they were dangerous. Pirates maybe, looking to steal their boat and valuables. But without a boat for themselves, this was pointless. He was right, they were likely stranded at sea, and could be dead within a few hours if they didn’t help, there was no way of knowing how long they’d been in the cold waters. Besides, what kind of person would he be if he wasn’t willing to take the small risk that they might be sinister to help them?

He opened the cabin door and walked onto the deck. The night air hit him instantly. Bones had warned them it would be cold, but he never expected it to knock the life out of him. He wondered how on earth Pavel could stand to sit out here just to look at some stars.

He took a long sweeping glance around him. Sea, lots of sea. Lots of empty sea he might add, no one to be seen. He strained his hearing, but could only pick out the sounds of the sea lapping against the boat and the wind whistling through the sails. And he got out of bed for this?

He turned round to face Pavel, who was stood shivering in the doorway. He couldn’t even bring himself to step out on the deck. Whatever, he was probably just tired - sitting out staring at stars all night, the dude was bound to start seeing things.

“You’re lucky you didn’t tell Bones. He would have slaughtered you there’s nothing here.” He called, raising his voice above the wind.

Pavel shot him a confused glance before poking is head into the cold air and performing two large sweeping glances around at the surrounding sea. “Are you sure? Maybe they swam away?”

“To where?” Jim called back. “All there is is open ocean, we’d still see them even if they were swimming away.”

Pavel said something, but his voice was carried away by the wind. 

“What was that?” He yelled, the wind was picking up now, and he didn’t like that. He was beginning to head back inside when there was a loud bang, and the ship rocked. It was like someone had slammed something against it. Jim stopped dead, every nerve standing on end. He glanced at Pavel, who was still in the doorway, gripping on to the side of the doorframe. His knuckles were white.

“What the hell was that?” Pavel asked, his voice a cadence higher than usual.

“We must have hit something.” Jim said, attempting to keep his voice steady not just for his friend’s sake but for his as well. There was no point panicking until they found something solid to actually panic about.

“Should be get the others?” 

“Wait.” Jim held out his hands and planted his feet perfectly on the ground. He stood statuesque for a few seconds, counting them in his head. “I think it’s fine.”

“Oh really?” Pavel scoffed. “Are you a qualified individual to be saying that?” 

“Like I said, we must have just hit something, some driftwood or something. I think it’s best to-“

There was another slam, only this time much larger. It felt to Jim as if some huge beast were continually crashing into the side of the boat. He stumbled and managed to grab onto the mast of the sail before hitting the ground. Poor Pavel didn’t have it so lucky. The impact sent him flying out onto the deck and pushed him into a pile of crates. Jim could hear the sickening thud of his head hitting the corner of one of them, and felt what he could only describe all the blood draining from his body. He closed his eyes hoping that when he looked again he would see Pavel rise and crack a joke. Instead, his friend didn’t move.

Keeping low to the deck to maintain his balance, he rushed to Pavel’s side. He wasn’t moving, and didn’t respond as Jim took him by the limp shoulder and shook him gently. “Pavel?” His voice trembled and was all but completely obscured by the wind. Jim knew he was out cold, but he whispered his friends name with the pathetic hope that he might be okay.

“What the hell are you two doing out here?” Despite the wind and the crashing of the waves against the ship, Bones’ voice carried into Jim’s ears like a weird mix of relief and condescension. He ran over to them, his attention immediately turning to the fallen Pavel. He checked his pulse, and proceeded to rip the fabric from his shirt, using it as a makeshift bandage for the wound on his head. He turned to Jim. “I’ll take it you aren’t hurt?”

Jim shook his head, noting how Bones’ eyes subconsciously flitted over him, checking for any injuries. He then turned to Nyota, who was stood behind him, nervously pulling at the skin on her hands. 

“Uhura, take him in inside the cabin. Make sure he’s warm and has water. He’s breathing, but I won’t be able to tell how bad his head injury is out here. Could just be a concussion, that’s what we’ll hope for.”

Nyota leant down and hefted the limp body of Pavel in her arms. Jim remarked silently at how at ease she was, although noted the vein of her right temple looking to burst from her head, and her eyebrows knitted in deep concentration. She returned inside, pulling the cabin door closed behind her. Only Jim and Bones were left on the deck.

Bones straightened, bracing himself against the wind. “Something must have hit the boat. We’re not taking on any water, so it shouldn’t be too dangerous. We’ll figure it out in the morning.” He swept a gaze across the deck. “Go grab that flashlight will you?” 

Jim walked, or perhaps stumbled, towards the lone flashlight, which had rolled along the deck and was now perched precariously near the edge of the boat. His hands felt numb with shock, he couldn’t believe how events had spiralled into such a mess so quickly. All the guy had wanted to do was look at the stars.

He wondered if… No, it wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t plausible that whatever Pavel had seen, if he’d even seen anything at all, had attacked the boat. They’d just hit something, a rock, some floating ice, Titanic style.

He reached to grab the flashlight, fumbling in the process. The plastic was icy to the touch and felt unreal. Everything had felt unreal so far, but this flashlight, of all things, took the cake. He had a half notion just to throw it in the ocean and be done with it. He peered into the waves, and recoiled in shock. 

There was something there.

No, scratch that, not something - someone.

It was a face. Blurry and distorted by the rolling waves but definitely a face. Eyes, nose, mouth all there. And it was staring back at him. Jim felt that the reasonable thing to do was to scream, run back to Bones blabbering about faces in the sea, his dignity and sanity be damned. Hell, any reaction at all would have been better than what he decided to do. Just stare back. Two pairs of eyes, one submerged in the murky depths, locked onto each other and held for what seemed like a million years, but in reality was only a few seconds. Jim wasn’t sure how to feel, only that he didn’t want to move, that he didn’t need to. He felt transfixed by the gaze, and he knew that something was going to have to pull him out of it, as he certainly wasn’t going to do it himself.

“You coming, Kirk?” 

It was Bones’ ever shrilling voice that did it. And it was that voice that caused him to make a mistake. For as soon as his eyes jerked away from the eyes of the waves and settled on his tutor, waiting to return to the warmth of the cabin, something emerged from the waves and latched onto him. It felt like an arm, the icy grasp of a human hand, but was too slippery and scaly to feel fully human. It’s grip however, was no joke. Jim lashed out, prising the arm from his own, but it did no use. He felt like screaming, calling for help, but somehow the words he needed weren’t coming out. He tried to make a sound, any sound, however animal, but only silence passed his lips as he opened and closed his mouth in shock. 

He knew what was coming next. In fact, he’d known the second the hand had come from the sea and chosen him as it’s next capture. He felt his feet go out from under him and his body crash into the metal rails. He felt himself slide over them as the world tilted around him.

And he felt himself hit the water.

It was cold, icy waves hitting him over and over like bullets. He was free now, but not for long, and not for much use as he felt paralysed in the water, all breath stolen from his lungs, and movement snatched from his body. He should have been flailing, but he wasn’t. He knew that wasn’t the way people were supposed to act when dragged overboard a ship, but he couldn’t spur his body into action. 

He was going to drown.

The… thing had enclasped his leg in that same iron grip. Half of him was just pleased for his arm to have a release. It wasn’t until his head dipped under the water that he truly woke up to what was happening. 

Everything went black, and Jim knew now that he needed to fight or he would certainly drown. He started thrashing, and kicking; distorting his body in any way he could. He screamed, allowing water and seaweed to flood into his mouth and shove itself down his throat. He thought, as he was repeatedly dragged under and under like he was in a dunk tank at a county fair, that he could hear the manic shouts of Bones, shouting at him to grab his hand. It was no use though, he could feel his energy beginning to fade. His arms and legs were starting to feel like rubber, and his head was beginning to spin from the lack of oxygen. He would have to surrender himself to the murky depths soon enough, he thought, and to whatever it was that was determined to bring him down there.

What a way to die, he thought.

———

Jim was cold, colder than he’d ever known. He felt as if every vessel of his blood had frozen over, been crudely melted with a hairdryer, and frozen again. He didn’t want to open his eyes, afraid of what might be beyond them. He wondered if this was death. It felt icy and painful enough for sure, and there was no way he could have survived being dragged to the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean. Jim had always secretly wished there was more beyond death, but after five minutes of this he decided that he’d rather have nothing.

He shifted his body, and could feel sand beneath him, the grains like tiny needles underneath his back. His skin felt like rubber, only semblances of feeling and sensation coming through. He took the leap, and opened his eyes. There was black rock above, him gnarled and sharp. He flinched, as if one of the stalactites would fall and impale him.

His arm was outstretched to the side. He couldn’t feel it, but could see it was bent at an off angle. The pain would come soon, he could remember breaking his arm when he was a kid, only then he hadn’t been in the middle of the ocean.

He could hear water to his right and he managed to push himself into a sitting position with the arm that wasn’t bent like a snapped twig. He was in a cave, he could see that now. Not heaven or hell, but a natural cave. He suddenly felt very afraid. If he were dead, well that would, frankly, suck but at least everything would be over and done with. But now he was stuck. He had no idea where he was, how far he was from the boat, or if the boat was even still afloat.

Closing his eyes, Jim puffed a short breath out, imagining it crystallising in the cold air. Feeling was starting to come back to him now, and with that, came the pain. He felt like every single bone in his body had been crushed. Every breath he took fizzled in his chest like acid. He knew he wasn’t seriously hurt, and that in itself was odd enough. 

“I should be dead.” He breathed, startled at his voice echoing through the chamber.

“You should.” A cool voice replied. “But you aren’t, because of me.”


	3. Live Lightning Bolt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while, I was busy with school but hope you guys enjoy it!! xx

The voice was so empty and void of emotion that Jim thought for a few seconds that he’d made it up. Sure enough, however, it came from a source other than his own fractured mind. The entrance of the cave was submerged in a pool of sparkling water, and in that water was a person.

He was pale, his skin tinged with blues and greens. His skin was textured with what looked to be scales, but Jim knew that wasn’t possible. The figure’s chest was bare and Jim wondered how any person could stand to be in the water like that - any sane person, anyhow. But it was the eyes that caught his attention, the same eyes he had seen however long ago, staring back at him from the ocean.

“You… you were at the boat.” Jim’s lips felt numb, and not just from the cold. He could feel an ever growing chill spread across his body. This was who - or what - pulled him under. This thing wanted to kill him.

“Yes, I was. Your powers of observation are astounding.” The figure replied, somewhat curtly.

Did he just… did he just insult me? Jim was floored. Never mind that whoever this was had dragged him into a whirlpool of hell, but now he was insulting him? That was just rude.

“Who the hell - no scratch that, what the hell are you?” He edged closer to the pool of water, half eager to get a closer look at this mysterious figure, half just wanting to punch him in the face.

“I’m the person who saved your life.” The figure said cooly.

“Yeah, you mentioned that.” Jim muttered. 

“And I wouldn’t move too much if I were you.” The figure cocked an impressive eyebrow. “You’ve been through quite a shock.”

A laugh escaped Jim, echoing around the chamber like a mad choking sound. “Yeah, of course I fucking have! No thanks to you!”

The eyebrow remained cocked, and Jim allowed himself the small liberty of marvelling at how sculpted it was. “What do you mean, I saved your life.”

“Yeah sure,” Jim edged ever closer to the water. “If you call dragging me overboard my ship and almost drowning me saving my life then you must be pretty pleased with yourself.”

“I dragged you over,” The figure’s cool, emotionless tone was beginning to annoy Jim. He’d nearly killed him, you’d think mystery man would have the decency to be a little more than bored about it. “To save your life, you would have been taken otherwise.”

“Taken? What the hell are you talking about?”

“You didn’t let me finish. I tried to get your friends, but I couldn’t manage it, so I guess I’m just stuck with you now.” 

Jim recoiled in disbelief with such force that it was a wonder his head didn’t detach from his head and roll along the cave floor. “You’re stuck with me?! You were the one who brought me here in the first place!”

There was a ugly pause. The air in the cave felt suddenly very constricted, like they were in a very large balloon slowly being deflated. 

“Get up here.” Jim demanded, waving his unbroken arm in his direction. “I want to get a closer look at you. I think I deserve that at least.”

The figure shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t.”

It was all Jim could do not to scream. “What do you mean you can’t?”

“I mean,” Jim didn’t fail to notice the tempo of the figure’s speech change, like he was trying to explain something complicated to a child. It stung. “I literally can’t. I will dry up and die and that will neither help your current situation or give you a better understanding of who I am.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Jim squeezed his eyes shut, drifting off into a thought that he hadn’t even comprehended. That this might all be a crazy dream. 

“Come closer.” The mystery figure beckoned with a delicate hand. Jim edged forward with baited breath, not sure what to expect. He peered into the eyes of the figure then felt his own drift down to the water’s edge.

The water was crystal, so clear that Jim had to wonder whether what he was seeing was real. Beneath the waves, where he had expected two human legs, was something so beyond his imagination that Jim couldn’t help but feel the breath catch in his throat. He felt his heart stop when he laid eyes on what could only be described as a tail. It was pale turquoise in colour, like the spotless waters surrounding a tropical island, and speckled with scales of royal blue, so electric that Jim felt like it crackled and sparked like a live lightning bolt. He suddenly felt a rush of heat, as if he were looking upon something holier than him. He felt like he was looking at a prince.

He was beautiful.

He scooted back, still leaning uncomfortably on his side to protect a broken arm. 

“What the hell are you?” He breathed, his voice nearly whipped away by the echoes in the cave, now more omnipresent than they were before. 

The figure - no, the merman - scoffed, as if prickled by the remark. “You know what I am, I can see it in your eyes. And you don’t even ask for my name.”

“Well please,” Jim stammered, working hard to put up a sarcastic front. “Enlighten me.”

“It’s Spock.” Spock replied, boring two sleek holes into Jim with his gaze.

“Spock?” Suddenly, this entity seemed less intimidating with just one name. “Is that it?”

“My full name is unknown to human kind. You wouldn’t be able to pronounce it.”

And that intimidation was back.

Jim levelled Spock’s gaze. “Well my name’s-“

“Jim. I know, I heard the older human shouting it when I pulled you under.”

Older. Jim thought. Bones’ll love that.

“Yeah about that,” He countered. “Why did you do that?”

“I told you,” Spock’s voice was flat, but Jim could detect a hint of annoyance, like he felt that he was explaining the situation a hundredth time. “I was saving your life.”

“Trust me, buddy,” Jim rolled on to his back and stared at the cave ceiling, deciding to count the stalactites that protruded from it. “My life’s been saved before, and that didn’t feel a whole lot like it.”

“Well you’re not dead, are you?” 

Jim placed his arms - well, an arm - behind his head, and was forced to listen to every bone in it click. “Maybe that would be a mercy.”

He took satisfaction in Spock blinking in quiet shock. “You’ve just met a creature you never knew existed, and are now privy to a whole other world. And you think death is the most suitable option?”

“Wow, you’re awfully smug.” He took a sadistic little pleasure in seeing him so confused. “For a fish.”

“Don’t call me that.” 

The tinge of emotion was shocking, but also came with a feeling of strange relief. So the guy could feel. 

“Why not.” Jim probed. He felt weird, like he was being far too jovial for the situation he was in. Whatever, he thought. I’m in a cave in the middle of the ocean most likely dying from internal bleeding, let me have some fun.

“It’s rude.”

Well, he couldn't argue with that.

A thought tickled him in the back of his mind, something important that he’d forgotten in the rush of thinly veiled insults and mermaid tails. 

“My friends.” His voice echoed through out the cave, each aftershock pounding the realisation of where he was and who he was without back into him. “You said you tried to get them, that they were going to be taken. Taken by what?”

“Not by what.” Spock replied, the ghost of a haughty tone in his voice, although Jim could see in his eyes that he recognised that he was worried. “By whom. And they’re likely dead by now, so it hardly matters.”

The wash of emotions that spread across Jim’s face processed in the young merman’s mind, and he cursed himself for being so candid. 

“Or not.” He back-pedalled. He sighed, and prepared himself for the gruelling reality of explaining the ways of his mer-kin to another human who he ultimately wouldn’t be able to save.

“My people,” He began. “We worship old gods of the sea. Every once in a while, they require… sacrifices. Your friends - and you had you not been so lucky - are those said sacrifices. We do this because-“

“My friends are becoming sacrifices for a bunch of sea freaks who worship some old sea dudes? What type of bullshit is that?”

Spock was momentarily taken aback. Never before had he not had to explain the reasonings behind the sacrifices, but now this human - Jim - was derailing his whole script.

“Well,” He said dryly. “Sea freaks…That’s more offensive than fish.”


	4. Did He Just Blush?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't really sure how to end this chapter, but bear with me lol. Also I promise to upload more frequently!!

As Jim laid back against the damp sand, he wondered what time it was. Being stuck in a cave however many miles under the ocean surface meant that he had no proper way of telling when it was. Whether the sun was rising or sinking below the horizon, he was none the wiser. He had turned many times to the water to help, but whatever light penetrated the surface didn’t reach all the way down here. It was a marvel he could see at all, but a wash of light surrounded him, covering everything in a deep blue haze. 

Not only that, but he didn’t know how long he’d been stuck down there. He’d tried counting, but always lost the numbers at around one thousand. Spock had said he’d been unconscious for around three or so hours, but Jim wasn’t entirely inclined to believe him. He wondered where his friends are, and tried to escape the ever present sinking feeling that they were in fact all dead, or perhaps being sacrificed to the sea gods. He couldn’t decide which fate was worse.

He was alone now. Although his breathing had finally slowed to a less laboured huff and puff, he could still hear it rattling over the crags in the rock above him. He’d contemplated whether he should climb up, or even brave the waves and swim to safety. But he didn’t know how deep down he was, or whether there was an opening above him. Besides, he certainly wasn’t drowning or falling to his death today; he’d already gotten a taste of one of those things and he wasn’t eager to get back on that train.

There was something else, however, something Jim couldn’t really understand. It stirred inside him like a parasite gnawing it’s way through his internal workings until it could burst out of him. 

He didn’t really want to leave. 

He scolded himself for having that thought. Of course he wanted to leave. He’d have to be insane to actually enjoy being stuck in an underwater cave all alone save for a seemingly emotionless merman who appeared every so often to make dry comments that bordered on thinly veiled insults. But something about this situation made him feel as though he wasn’t as scared and lost of hope than he should be. 

There was no denying he took considerable enjoyment out of the time Spock did show up. The merman said he couldn’t stay around for long because his fish-like kin may get suspicious of his whereabouts. But when he did appear, it made Jim feel a little less like a small fish in a big pond - excuse the pun. 

Spock would bring him things. A strange medicine (or potion, as he had called it) that settled Jim’s nerves and healed the worst of his wounds (which, to his quiet relief, he still didn’t quite know the full extent of); a large shell, through which Jim could hear nothing in particular but still took pleasure in lifting to his ear to hear the sounds of the sea, despite him being fully aware that he was already under it (Jim wasn’t quite sure why Spock had brought him this, but the glimmer in the merman’s eyes gave him the idea it was to show off). And finally a strange orb, glass like in appearance and with faint inscriptions that Jim couldn’t quite make out. Spock had pressed it into his hand, his own surprisingly warm.

“Keep this on you,” He had said, a serious look clouded over his dark eyes. “It’ll tell me whether or not you’re safe when I’m not here.” 

Jim twirled the orb in his fingers, it was a pretty shade of gold. “Thanks… I guess…”

“It’s gold.” Spock said, perhaps unaware that Jim could, in fact, see and process colour. “Like your hair.”

Jim blinked. “Yeah,” He chuckled. “I guess it is. Did you choose it because of that?” He asked, not sure why he was suddenly so curious, and feeling as though he may be slightly pricked if the answer was no.

“Of course not,” Spock replied, too hastily for it to have any truth. “I was simply making a remark about the similarity in colour. The choice was entirely coincidental.”

And with that he flicked his tail, and returned back to the waves. 

Now, on his own and, as much as he’d never admit it, aching for the return of his strange new acquaintance, he rolled the orb back and forth between his hands, watching as it picked up the wet sand and deposited it again once it’s 360 degree rotation was complete. 

Jim could chalk at least a little bit of the fact that he was growing more and more content with his current situation up to the fact that he liked to look at Spock. He was a remarkably handsome individual, and that wasn’t even including the magnificent tail that erupted beneath his middle. There was something somewhat calming in looking at him, just sitting and taking in his splendid appearance (although Jim wouldn’t make that obvious). 

Despite all of this, Jim had found himself wondering on several occasions how Spock managed to… pee. He had nearly asked him at one point, but stopped himself as the image of what would follow was already forming in his mind. Spock would cock his head in equal confusion and amusement, and raise one hefty brow. The corner of his mouth would slowly jerk upwards, despite Jim seeing that he was trying to remain straight faced and earnest. He would then say something witty yet utterly condescending and often infuriating. Something like: “I didn’t realise my toiletry habits were of such interest to you, perhaps you have not notified me to this certain aspect of your personal interest and/or pleasure.” 

He figured that if he had to suffer that embarrassment, he was fine not knowing. 

The thought that Spock may in fact never need to go to the bathroom was just beginning to brew in his head, as the water in the pool bubbled and the figure in question breached the surface. He was holding something, and Jim squinted to get a better look at what it was.

“What’cha got for me this time?” He enquired somewhat teasingly. “A special stone to monitor every time I need to take a shit? Not that I don’t appreciate the gifts, of course, I feel like a spoiled boyfriend on Valentine’s.”

Then Spock did something quite unknown to both him and Jim. He hesitated. He let out a little cough, so different to his usual quick and dry response, that they were both momentarily taken aback. 

Wow, Jim thought. Did I hit a nerve? And did he just blush?

———  
Hikaru Sulu kept his hands on the wheel of the fishing boat and stared out into the horizon. He knew he hadn’t been wrong about getting the boat with the fancy pirate style steering wheel. Yeah, it had cost nearly double the original budget they’d settled on, but he liked to think it was worth it, just to look this cool. 

“Well, I can safely say,” A voice drifted over to him from the bow of the ship. “That this boat is a pile of crap.” 

“You know, Scotty, you could’ve just said you didn’t want it.” He chuckled.

Scotty appeared next to him, pushing a half filled glass of champagne in his direction. There was a dribble of liquid down the side. It had been sloshed over the edge, likely from a mixture of filling it up too full and bad balance which made Hikaru suspect that Scotty was on his third glass by now. 

“And I would have done exactly that, my good friend. Except you went and bought this pile of junk behind my back.”

Hikaru took the glass and sipped it, relishing the taste, he hadn’t champagne in a long time, he felt like he was at prom. Scotty kicked the edge of the ship lightly, yet they both listened as the impact set in motion a series of ominous clangs that neither of them were entirely sure where they came from. Hikaru had to admit, this boat was kind of trash.

“Think about it from my perspective.” Scotty rallied. “First time on a boat that doesn’t smell exclusively of dead fish, and it doesn’t even work properly. And for what? A pirate’s wheel?”

“Hey,” Hikaru intervened. “You can insult me and the boat all you want, but don’t be coming for the steering wheel, you know it looks cool.”

Scotty snorted. “Look, as much as I’ve always wanted to be on a pirate ship - oh wait, I’m not eight anymore - I’d like to know we’ll get through this trip without this boat sinking and us resigning ourself to Davy Jones’ locker.”

“Davy Jones’ locker!” Hikaru said. “Now you’re talking like a pirate.”

“Well,” Scotty jabbed sarcastically. “Aye, aye to that.”

They both paused, looking out at the sea ahead of them. It was going to be a long journey, and not a quiet one judging by the vessel they were on. 

“What’s with this champagne business anyway?” Hikaru asked. “We’re just on a fishing job you know, not a holiday cruise.”

“Yeah, clearly.” Scotty replied, sweeping a condescending look around the boat. “But, you know, it’s our first time out on the water together again in a while. I’ve missed our trips pal, and I just thought it required a little celebration is all.” 

He paused, and Hikaru knew he was about to ask the big question - the question that everyone else at the dock had asked and the question which, frankly, he was a little tired of answering by now.

“Are you sure you’re okay, coming out here for such a long time. You’ve had a lot on your plate.” 

“Yes, I’m fine. I feel like I’ve said this a million times, maybe I should write it down.” He sighed.

“It’s just, adopting a kid is hard work, and you and your husband need time to adjust. I don’t want to force myself and my ‘wisdom’ into your life, but are you sure you’re ready?”  
“Well,” Hikaru chuckled softly, although he really wished the conversation would end. “It’s a little late to ask me that. Like I said, I’m fine, we know what we’re doing.”

“Good, I trust you.” Scotty replied, the firmness and belief in his voice convincing Hikaru he believed him. 

Suddenly, there was a large bump against the boat. Everything shook for a couple of seconds, acting as if some sort of miniature earthquake had hit the boat.

“What the hell was that?” Hikaru asked, glancing around worriedly.

“We probably just hit something.” Scotty replied, placing his champagne glass down in the edge next to him. “With a boat like this, it probably sounds worse than it is.”

“Yeah,” Hikaru said, walking carefully to the edge, to spy if any driftwood had clashed with the side of the boat. “You’re probably right.”

He paused, spying something over the side of the boat. “Wait… what the hell it is that? That looks like a…”

“Person.” Scotty replied, now next to him. 

Another shock hit the boat, and Scotty grabbed a large fishing net from the deck. 

“I don’t know who the hell that is,” He said firmly. “Perhaps we could call them in, use this to help.”

“Don’t.” Hikaru raised an arm against his friends chest to stop him from walking forward.

“Why not?” Scotty asked.

“I have a sinking feeling this isn’t going to end well.”


	5. Do You Like It?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: chapters will be coming out more often now!  
> also me: takes over two weeks to write next chapter
> 
> sorry guys!! but it's here now

There was something wrapped tightly in Spock’s hand as he leant on the side of the pool. It would around his translucent skin like vines, deep green in colour. Jim couldn’t tell what it was and edged forward slowly and with more ease than he anticipated. Whatever Spock had been giving him, it was working, he was feeling more of himself again and not just a cold rubbery vessel that he had felt previously.

“What is that?” He asked, reaching a tentative hand out to touch it.

Spock snatched his hand away with rocket precision, shocking Jim and making him remember that this was a deadly creature - one capable of dragging a grown adult down to the depths of the ocean.

“Get in.” Spock said, more curtly and snappy than he intended to. “Please.” He countered, sufficed that he’d made the polite correction. 

“What?” Jim asked.

“Please get in the water with me. I can demonstrate it better when you’re in.” Spock answered, gesturing towards the waves.

“And what if I don’t want to do that?” Jim asked slowly. Not that getting in closer proximity to Spock wasn’t an oddly pleasurable thought to him, but he’d only just felt like he had managed to get dry after many uncomfortable hours, perhaps even days, of being completely soaked through. He wasn’t exactly jumping to get wet again.

“Then you won’t be able to see what I want to show you.” Spock replied cooly, and without emotion.

“Is it that important?” Jim rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I believe it to be so. And I think you will too. It will help you get out of here.”

Jim felt his ears perk up. He felt like he’d been stuck in this jagged prison for so long that he’d almost forgotten that there was a world outside the cave. The thought of being able to leave and go back to some normalcy seemed almost strange, but it was still a relief. He wouldn’t die down here. He could leave. Slowly, he eased himself along the wet sand, noticing now how it scratched against his bare skin. A thought occurred to him that being submerged would rid him of all of the sand that had accumulated over his entire body. Not one bit of him had been saved from the scratchy hell.

He dipped a toe in the water, and felt a shiver encompass his body as he experienced the cold grip his feet. It took him a second to realise that he was still wearing shoes, and as the cold permeated the leather of them he braved a little more his body each time. A leg, a hip, his stomach, his chest, his arms, and his neck. He stood, or, should he say, floated, treading water and breathing rapidly to beat of the ice that was gripping him and threatening to freeze his organs in their tracks. They were in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean after all.

“Stay still, and close your eyes.” Spock said, placing a delicate hand over Jim’s eye and closing them for him.

“What is this?” He scoffed. “A birthday surprise?”

“Is it your birthday?” Spock asked, bluntly, catching Jim by surprise.

“I… no.” He stuttered, floored momentarily by the question.

“Then no.”

Jim reluctantly decided that it was better to stay silent and let Spock do whatever he wanted, than try to argue with him. He thought for a quick second that he should be worried, that he was putting his faith in someone who had, effectively, kidnapped him - and that Spock could do whatever he wanted to Jim. He reluctantly decided to stay calm, cautious to what might be coming next.

He heard the commotion, the soft splashes of water against skin, before he felt it. He recoiled in shock as Spock cupped his hands around his face and nudged his chin up. His hands were much warmer than Jim had expected; he’d assumed they’d be cold and lifeless like, well, like fish. He supposed he better not tell Spock that. The hands he felt however were warm and soft, he wandered if, like himself, the heat came from subtle embarrassment. 

His skin tingled once again with apprehension as Spock slipped his hands around the back of Jim’s neck. He felt skin come into contact with his hair, and fingers brush through it almost absentmindedly. Jim felt something like string being brought around his head and tied with Spock’s nimble touch. He suddenly realised he was being gagged and tried earnestly to wriggle out of the merman’s grasp. However worried he was, he still kept his eyes firmly closed’; perhaps worried about what would be there when he opened them.

“What are you doing?” Spock asked, surprise tinged at the edges of his question. Still, he remained dutifully tying whatever device he was attaching to Jim’s face. 

“What are you doing?” Jim retaliated, surprised at how muffled his voice was under the mask.

He became aware of the commotion around his head ceasing, and felt a stillness that seemed to last for minutes. He imagined in his mind that Spock was falling back to admire his work, whatever work that may be.

“You can open your eyes now.” Spock said, as if he had expected Jim to do it unaided through some sort of telekinesis. 

Jim opened his eyes, and they immediately fell on the merman. Spock showed no sign of emotion, but something in his eyes seemed to be urging Jim to take in his surroundings and senses. Jim brought his hands up to his face, and felt what he could only describe as some sort of surgical mask wrapped around his nose and mouth. He reached around the back to feel the binds behind his head, they felt slimy and dense, like some sort of seaweed or vine. He was just about to pick at the knot when Spock reached out an arm and placed his hand on Jim’s, guiding his arm down to his side.

“Don’t do that. I just spent all that time tying it.” He said.

There was a pause.

“Do you like it?” Spock asked, and Jim realised that he had been waiting for some sort of response, although he couldn’t tell if he expected a critique or a gush of praise and affection.

“I don’t know what it is.” Jim complained, his voice muffled and thick under the mask.

“It’s a breathing aid.” Spock said, only elaborated when a sharp look from Jim indicated to him that the young human had no idea what he was talking about. “It’ll mean you can swim underwater for extended periods of time.”

“Why would I want to do that?” Jim replied, haughtily.

Spock blinked, and Jim noted that this seemed to be how the merman displayed shock. “So you can explore with me, so you don’t have to stay here by yourself all the time.”

“Pass.” Jim turned his head and pretended to admire a particularly grey rock on the cave wall.

Spock took a breath to say something, opened his mouth, and then closed it again, releasing the breath through his nose instead. He’d expected a thank you at least, this was rude and uncalled for. What could he possibly say to get Jim to appreciate his efforts at making him more comfortable. It’s not like he’d been complaining at him every second he got about how dull and boring it was to be trapped inside a cave 24 hours a day for however long. 

“It will allow you to get home. I can take you there.”

Jim’s eyebrows perked up. He turned to Spock and shot him a quizzical gaze. 

“Oh, sure.” He said sarcastically. 

“Yes, you’re right, let me show you.” Spock reached out his hand, and Jim dutifully took it.

———

Nyota didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t know how she was still alive. But she was, and that was all that mattered. Take one thing at a time. She thought to herself, repeating her newfound mantra over and over again in an effort to keep calm. You’re alive right now, and that’s good. Work from there. How do we get out?

She cast her eyes up at their prison. It was a small cage, lined with shimmering pearl, and encased in a bubble of air, that kept the ocean water pouring in and drowning all of them. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely correct. The pressure of being so deep under the ocean surface without any protective diving gear on would surely crush every bone in their bodies before they would have a chance to drown. She didn’t know how that hadn’t happened yet, but she was glad to be alive, and decided to keep the confusion at bay for the most part.

She didn’t remember much about the crash (she put that down to being forcefully dragged to the bottom of the ocean). The only things stuck in her mind where the sounds of the waves crashing over the side of the boat, filling it with water and sinking to an untimely doom. She wondered where it was now, and kept solace in the thought that at least it would make a nice home for a family of fish, or perhaps a shark or two. 

When she had first regained consciousness, she had tried pulling on the bars of the cage, but found that they were rock solid and wouldn’t budge. So instead she had decided to sit and wait. What she was waiting for she had no idea, and she hardly doubted it would be entirely pleasant, but there was nothing else she could do.

She glanced to the other side of the cage, to where Bones was sat. He had barely said a word since they’d been captured, and just grunted in different tones in answer to her questions and comments, an meagre attempt on her part to boost morale. She couldn’t blame him though, what they’d seen - those… things - were beyond anything she’d ever known to exist. For a man like Bones, who’d built his entire life and career around teaching the scientific, that must have been difficult to grasp. 

Pavel was looking better, perhaps the best out of all of them, given the circumstances. He was still a ghastly shade of grey, but some of the rosiness was returning to his cheeks. He was sleeping now, even though Nyota didn’t understand how he could relax himself enough to sleep during such horror. At first, both her and Bones were worried something sinister had happened to him, but he’d soon regained consciousness like the rest of them, and Bones’ quick examination with what knowledge he had (any medical supplies had sunk with the boat) assured that his head injury was nothing to worry about. 

Nyota sighed, and half expected to see air bubble dribble from her mouth. She thought about Jim, who by now she was sure would be dead. There was no way anyone could survive out on the open ocean without a boat or any supplies. She tried to feel sad, or any sort of grief, but found herself weary of feeling negative emotions and instead decided to start thinking about what she’d do when they met the people who had captured them. 

She hoped to God their deaths would be quick.


	6. Heavenly Domain

Jim wasn’t used to breathing underwater. It didn’t seem natural for him. Every few seconds he seemed to find himself gasping for breath before realising that it was all there. He didn’t know how he was doing it, but his lungs were puffing in and out as usual and he wasn’t… well… drowning.

He’d tried to talk, to ask Spock what was the strange garment layered over his face, but when he opened his mouth to speak his lungs felt like they were shrivelling up and dying; burning like someone has set them alight. 

“You won’t be able to talk.” He remembered Spock had said.

“Why not?” He had asked.

“Because of the pressure changes in the blah blah blah…”

Jim had lost interest by then. The marine biology student inside him scolded him, but the present him was too distracted by the air mask wrapped around his face. Could he really breathe underwater? Surely that was impossible. His scientific mind told him that nothing this flimsy could ever protect him from the crushing depths of Spock’s heavenly domain. (Heavenly? Why had that come to mind?) He’d need a diving suit, oxygen tanks, anything that seemed real. Although, he had supposed, nothing really seemed real anymore. It was like everything he’d been taught in class had been wrong, or at least severely misguided. 

Spock noticed Jim, struggling to get words out, and rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, although Jim suspected he could talk unlike him, but the look in his eyes conveyed on simple and crucial sentiment.

You’re doing fine.

So Jim shut his mouth and followed Spock through the waves. He was taking him down, deeper than Jim really wanted to go. But he followed him regardless, gripped by a colossal intrigue. No marine biologist could ever say they had experienced the ocean in this manner before, guided by a creature of myth and folklore - a merman. Not that anyone would believe him if he were to publish his findings. Maybe he could get a good fiction book out of it, not that that was his particular interest or goal.

He noted the different species of fish as they descended. Haddock, and Atlantic Blue Marlin, and King Mackerel. As they descended further the creatures around them began to grow more warped and sun deprived, a Bastard Sturgeon, a Beluga, a Garfish. He felt oddly calm, as if among all these ocean dwellers there was a sense of solidarity. He respected them and they respected him.

Soon however, the fatigue worn in. He’d been diving before, but flippers had always accompanied him as a well needed addendum to his body. Here he was swimming on his own, trying to keep up with a merman no less. He hadn’t realised how fast Spock could swim, and to see him flitter and glide through the current was enough to leave him feel awestruck and a little lovesick. He pressed a hand to Spock’s shoulder, and signalled to him that he needed rest. He saw the creature’s eyes flit quickly left and right, before Spock said:

“There’s nowhere to stop, we’re in open water.”

Jim opened his mouth to reply, but soon remembered his previous turmoils and thought better of it, instead mimicking the act of treading water. But even as he moved he knew that that would be just as tiring as swimming. However he couldn’t shake the oncoming sloth that was spreading through his veins and reaching him arms and legs. He knew he couldn’t drown, but he didn’t really fancy the idea of sinking to the bottom of the ocean entirely conscious either.

Spock’s gazed at him quizzically, seeming not to understand why Jim was waving his arms and legs around in an attempt to stay upright in the water. He tilted his head as if to silently ask: What the hell are you doing?

Of course. Jim realised. What the hell would a merman know about treading water, they haven’t got legs.

Spock moved closer, and Jim thought to reach out a hand and rest against his strong body. However, Spock continued to swim closer, and Jim almost shrank away again, before deciding to stand his ground. He won’t hurt me. He thought. At least, I hope he won’t. I’ve got no strength to fight back.

Instead, Spock grabbed him by his waist and pulled him into him. He then switched the position of his hands, and wrapped them around Jim’s back, so that they were caught in an odd looking, one sided embrace, with Jim stiff with shock, his arms staunchly stuck out at the sides. 

“Please excuse the intimacy.” Spock said, in a strange manner, that made Jim wonder whether he really regretted it at all. 

Not that that was a problem for Jim. 

He nodded his head, to signal that everything was okay, but couldn’t help the gasp escaping from him as Spock suddenly started pulling him along. 

“I’ll take you back to cave, you should be able to rest there.” Spock said.

———

The cave was an unwelcome familiarity to Jim. He had spent so much time in there that he could see each knot and ripple in the rocks in the darkness when he closed his eyes. He laid back on the sand and began to reminisce about his first time waking up in here. He marvelled at how much his perception had changed of his situation. At first this place had been a prison, but now it was just a mere annoyance, transforming from a cage to something much more mundane, like a classroom.

“Is this Stockholm syndrome?” He breathed into the air. 

“What’s that?” Spock questioned flatly, folding the breathing mask and placing it under the waves. Where he was storing it, Jim had no clue, it wasn’t like he had pockets. Or did he? I’ll file that away to ask later. Jim thought.

“Stockholm syndrome…” Jim began, realising this was his chance to relish in being the one to explain something to Spock, instead of the other way around, for once. “It’s like… when you get kidnapped, and you get used to your situation. So you don’t think it’s as bad anymore.”

“Then yes, I think it is.” Spock replied curtly.

“Oh.” Jim felt the breath stop in his throat. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. 

“Oh?”

“Nothing.” His eyes cast down to the sand, and he rolled onto his stomach to better face his ‘kidnapper’. “I was thinking it might be love.”

Shit.

Jim felt every muscle in his body tense in shock. Why the hell had he said that? Some things were better left rattling around in his stupid, stupid brain. 

“Who said anything about love?” Spock asked, not looking at Jim, and instead choosing to focus his attention on a floating pile of seaweed to his left. Then he turned and looked at him, and Jim readied himself for the onslaught of condescension and humiliation from his big mouth.

“Technically,” Spock drew the word out, like it was him that warranted convincing, not Jim. “I didn’t kidnap you, I saved you. And I wasn’t aiming for you specifically, it just happened that I only managed to save you.”

Thank God. Jim thought, mentally breathing a sigh of relief. He didn’t seem bothered by my slip up. Or, at least, he’s decided not to comment on it.

But with the mention of his friends, Jim felt a pang of worry echo through this body. Like his anxieties were a gong, and Spock had just unintentionally struck them. 

“Do you think they’re still alive? My friends, I mean.” He wasn’t sure whether he wanted the answer to that question.

“Oh almost definitely.” Spock replied, with enough confidence to reassure Jim that he wasn’t making it up just to make him feel better. “When taken for sacrifice, we keep the humans stored away until the time for the offering comes.” 

“Stored away.” Jim rolled the phrase over and under his tongue. It made his friends sound like vacuum packed meat. “When is the time for… sacrificing?”

“Twice a year.” Spock was refusing to look at him, that much Jim could tell. His eyes were flitting all over the cave, looking for a spot to rest on, and then dashing away again, to not arouse suspicion that he was looking for something else to look at other than the human two feet from his face. “At the Summer and Winter solstice. The 21st of June, and the 21st of December.”

“21st of December… that’s only two days from now.” Jim could feel his heart sink. On the one hand, his friends were likely alive, but soon they would be nothing but bodies fed into a larger spiritual being.

He was about to suggest a likely ill fated rescue mission when a dark thought crossed his mind. He decided now was as best a time as any to air it. 

“How many?” He asked, now his eyes were the ones performing acrobatics.

“How many what?” Spock asked, but Jim could tell by the tone of his voice that he knew what he was going to ask.

“How many sacrifices have you seen?” 

There was a pause, only punctuated by the waves softly lapping against the rocks of the cave. 

“Too many.” Spock refused to give an exact number, but doubted it would matter anyway. 

“Why me?” Jim asked, careful to keep his voice quiet but for what reason he wasn’t sure. “Why save me?”

“You think I haven’t tried to save others?” Spock’s voice came out with a timbre unknown to Jim, and one which surprised even Spock himself. It sounded strangled, and fuelled with an emotion that Jim had, up until now, not heard emanating from the merman. 

It seemed even the waves had frozen in place in the silence that followed.

Spock was the one to break the silence. “Before,” He began, “You mentioned that your life has been saved before. What did you mean by that?”

Jim let out a puff of air from his nose. He really wished he hadn’t let that slip. The moment it had crossed his lips he’s regretted it, there was nothing he hated more than having to tell the story. He felt like he had told it a million times already, and every time brought up a small stab of pain that was always a new experience in some unspeakable way.

“Well, the day I was born, my mother and father were aboard an aeroplane.” He paused and rolled over to face Spock. “You know what an aeroplane is right?”

“Of course I do, I’m not an idiot, Jim.”

Jim chuckled lightly. “I think Stockholm syndrome would like to differ with that. Anyway, my mother went into labour mid-flight, just as the plane engines failed.”

“That sounds highly improbable.” Spock interjected. 

“Yeah, well they probably weren’t thinking that at the time.” Jim’s tone was icy and venomous, and he felt it lash out and sting Spock, which hit him with a wave of guilt. The guy was only trying to sort out events in his mind. “My father is… was… a pilot in the army. Do-”

“Yes Jim, I know what an army is.”

“Okay, just checking all bases here.” Jim replied, and couldn’t help feeling relieved at Spock’s frustrated tone. It took the edge of the storytelling, which was something that had never happened before. “He managed to help the plane land, and I was delivered just as it touched down. A miracle really, that’s what all the papers called it anyway. I got to experience my fifteen minutes of fame even before I knew what that was. My father, he wasn’t so lucky. The plane, it hit the ground at an odd angle, and the front was crushed, along with everyone in it.” 

Jim stopped. He always hated this part the most. The part where he had to wait to see if the recipient of his story would need further explanation. However, much to his surprise, Spock kept quiet. 

“My father saved my life that day. And the lives of 200 others, and in doing so he sacrificed himself. For us, for me. So yeah, that’s how I had my life saved.”

There was a silence. It was raw, and it was painful. Every time Jim told this story he could feel ice in his lungs afterwards, and now was no exception. The ice cold sea still hanging on to his damp hair and clothes wasn’t much help either. 

Jim waited for a response from Spock. Who was biding his time and focusing his eyes on the spot of swirling ocean in front of him. What would he say? Jim wondered. Would he apologise, God he always hated it when people did that, like it was somehow the fault of someone. Or would he say nothing at all? Jim didn’t know how he felt about that response.

Suddenly, Spock looked up, and the intense glare from his eyes caused Jim to instinctively shrink back. “You look cold.” Spock said.

Okay, Jim thought. He’s just going to move on. Pretend like this moment never even happened. Perhaps that’s for the best. 

Spock moved closer, so much so that he was now pressed against the edge of the pool. He was closer than Jim felt he had ever been to him before. Subconsciously, Jim edged forward to the precipice of the pool, so close that their noses were almost touching. Spock removed a hand from the icy waves, and brought it up to Jim’s chest. He pressed a hand in the centre of Jim’s chest, and again Jim could only marvel at how warm he was. The warmth spread through his veins, as if there was heat waves emanating from Spock’s hand, like he was giving Jim some of his endless heat. 

“You heart feels cold.” Spock said, his voice barely a whisper, but Jim could detect the strange mixture of concern and frustration in his voice. “Let me warm it up for you.”

As Spock’s lips collided with his, Jim felt a rush of warmth speed through his body. Spock’s lips were soft, not calloused and chapped like you’d expect of someone who spends 99% of their life underwater. In fact, for a split second, Jim felt self conscious of his of the state of his own lips. It was hardly like he could blame himself, it wasn’t as if he had had access to lip balm for the past couple of days. But that self doubt quickly turned to echoes of a distant memory, as the warmth spread through his body. He could almost visualise it, like tendrils of electricity all spreading through his body. He was so warm he felt like he could set alight at any minute, miles away from the dampness and melancholy he had been feeling only moments prior. He felt untouchable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I'm so sorry this took so long. I've been having pretty severe writers block, but I think I've finally figured out where I want this fanfic to go! Hopefully I've included enough mushy romance for you guys to forgive me for the long wait haha.


	7. Friend, Not a Foe

Jim was sat on a rock when he heard the shouts. He was perched on the top of an impressive structure, leading all the way down to the ocean floor, and rising all the way up to the surface, breaching just enough space for a Jim Kirk sized ass to sit on.

It wasn’t very comfortable, but Jim was making do. Even though he’d been venturing out with Spock more and more, he was still no match for Spock’s speed and agility. The merman would be half lost in the blue jue of the ever spreading ocean before he realised that Jim was lagging behind him, signalling frantically for him to stop.

Spock was now laying on the water a few feet away. His face was pointed upwards towards the sky, and there was a look of deep concentration painted across it. Every now and then, Jim would cast a glance in Spock’s direction to try and figure out what was going through his mind. What could be possibly be thinking of required a frown of such capacity? Before he could even ask such a question, Spock rolled over on his side to face, his face half submerged in the water, in a way that made Jim wonder that if he started talking his voice would gurgle and bubbles would erupt from his mouth.

“What’s up?” Jim asked.

“Do you hear that?” Spock replied with a question of his own.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific.” The look of confusion and concentration still hadn’t left Spock’s face, and Jim strained his ears to hear anything that might be cause for concern. 

“Listen carefully.” Spock said.

Yeah, Jim thought. Like I hadn’t been doing that already.

But Jim followed Spock’s orders. He took a deep breath - God, why did he suddenly feel like he was back in primary school - and focused his hearing, listening intently for anything that sounded unusual. He was just about to give up and chastise Spock for making him exert effort he didn’t need, when when he heard it: the faint sounds of panic.

Someone was shouting. He could just make out faint words, garbled as they were fed through the wind, but someone was screaming for help. Suddenly Jim was back on the boat however many nights before. He could feel the cold night wind against his face and the rush of ice cold as he hit the water - no, was dragged into the water - kicking and screaming. Suddenly, as wave of disgust for his situation washed over him. Along with that came came an intense hatred for Spock, the one who had brought him here in the first place. Whether he was trying to save him or not, Jim suddenly couldn’t shake the suspicion that he might be better off dead - rather than stranded in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, knowing that his friends were in great danger.

“We should help them.” Spock said, his gaze focused on the horizon, where the shouts would periodically arise from. “I know what this is, my kinfolk are taking the last subjects for the sacrifice.”  
Jim turned his head towards Spock sharply. “No way in hell am I doing that.”

Whether it was his icy tone, or the look of heated anger in his eyes, Jim couldn’t tell, but Spock seemed to shrink away from his words. Jim could see his eyes flit about in an awkward fashion, as if he was trying to figure out in his logical brain how to react to Jim’s small outburst. This was the first time Jim had seen Spock without his usual cool, confident and largely unworried demeanour, and he had often wondered what the merman would look like under pressure. However, this wasn’t the satisfactory outcome he had expected from seeing it. He felt mean. 

He coughed and continued, feeling the need to rectify what he said and try to explain it. “I’m not as strong as you… mermaids or however you want to put it. I couldn’t even take one of you on, several and I’m a dead man.”

“Then stay here.” In an instant Spock was back to his usual self, only this time an icy current ran through his words, sending a fissure of guilt through Jim’s body. I really shouldn’t have snapped at him, Jim thought.

Spock turned and headed for the horizon. Jim could see his shadow graze the tops of the waves, and again could do nothing but remark at how fast and agile he was. Jim would be nothing up against a whole flock of merpeople. (Flock? Was that the right way to put it?) I should just sit back and wait. He thought. Spock’ll be fine, he saved me so I’m sure he can take on a few of his own.

But something kept nagging at Jim, as feeling deep in his chest that told him he was doing the wrong thing. At least when he had been pulled overboard his friends had tried to save him, not that they had much of a chance. But it was the effort that counted, and who was he to call himself a Kirk - the son of the man who’d died to save an aeroplane full of passengers, even when he was wasn’t a working pilot anymore - and stay here waiting like a coward.

Jim lowered himself into the water and began to swim, trying to mirror Spock’s path the best he could. The ocean was vast, and he knew that if he veered off in the wrong direction he would be screwed, breathing mask or not. However, after a few minutes of frantic swimming, and, after he realised that he should be conserving his energy ready for a fight, another few minutes of less frantic but still speedy swimming, he saw the shapes of several figures in the water before him.

The first thing he noticed was how cold it had gotten. It was like he had passed across an invisible barrier separating the Atlantic and Arctic Oceans, and Jim had to fight to keep his skin from numbing and his muscles seizing up. He was no detective, but he expected that this was due to the presence of the other mermaids. The coldness felt like nothing real, as if a magical film of frost and snow suddenly hung tightly over his entire body. This was miles away from how he felt around Spock, who seemed to emanate warmth that not only permeated the body but the soul as well. 

There were two human figures in the water. A yellow shirted young man with a shock of jet black hair, and a slightly older man in a red shirt. Red shirt, yellow shirt, Jim thought. Got it. 

He struggled to locate Spock, but could not miss the aquamarine tail that flicked from underneath the waves. Spock seemed to be struggling with another mermaid, and Jim could catch a glimpse of a royal purple tail thrashing against the underwater currents. He couldn’t tell if Spock was winning, but he seemed to be doing a solid job, so Jim turned his attention to the two humans, steadily fighting off the weariness that was already trickling into his outer extremities. 

Red shirt and yellow shirt were being guarded by another mermaid, a stern looking woman with an emerald green tail and pillarbox red hair. Great, Jim thought. Now I’ve got freakin’ Ariel to deal with. 

“Hey lady!” Jim shouted, his brain not even fully grasping what his mouth was doing. He was fully ready to admit that he was just winging it at this point. “You missed one!”

Jim began to wave his arms above the surface of the water. The red haired mermaid turned towards him with a snarl. Now, if he could just get her away from the hostages, he could dart to their rescue. Easier said than done, he reckoned. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Spock’s head dart out of the waves, and shoot him a stern look. Oh well, now was not the time to look for his approval, now was time for action. 

The red haired mermaid darted towards him, her toned arms reaching out to snatch at his legs. Pulling the breathing mask over his face, Jim shot down under the waves. Through blurred salt ridden eyes, he saw the mermaid rush over him, snatching at nothing but a few unsuspecting fish nearby. Then he began to swim towards the floating brightly shirted figures on the surface. However, red hair wised up to his trick and before he knew it he felt something sharp collide with his shoulder. Pain burst through his entire left side and out of the corner of his eye he saw blood disperse into the water as he swam away from the offender.

Crap.

With one arm dragging behind him, feeling painful and useless, he reached out the other and grabbed the yellow shirted man and pulled him towards his body. He felt light in the water, and glided over, unconscious. But he was breathing, and Jim could see the steady, if shallow, rise and fall of his chest. At least he’s out of it. Jim thought. With any luck he wouldn’t remember want happened. 

The red shirted man, however, was not so lucky. With a garbled cry, he pushed forward through the water, barrelling straight into Jim. With a wince, Jim felt the pain in his shoulder surge, but the few days spent with Spock had made him just that little bit more agile, and he managed to shift out of the way before the man could do any serious damage. 

“What the hell dude?” He shouted. “I’m trying to save your life here!”

The man, in his forties by the looks of it, shot a glance down through the waves at Jim’s lower half. He suddenly felt very exposed and backed away ever so slightly. “You have legs.” Red shirt said, bewilderment apparent on his face but overshadowed by a greater sense of relief. “You’re not one of them.”

“Yeah.” Jim replied. “Long story.”

Spock breached the surface next to Jim, causing red shirt to put up his arms in a defensive, if a little pathetic, stance. 

“It’s okay.” Jim reassured. “He’s a friend, not a foe.”

———

“So, why can’t you explain this to me now?”

Back in the cave, Jim had the unfamiliar experience of being the one in the loop. He knew what was going on, although he still didn’t have a firm grasp on why, and now these two newcomers were alien to the situation. 

Montgomery ‘Call-Me-Scotty’ Scott sat in front of them. He was free of any major injuries, save for a few scrapes and bruises, and was restlessly shifting his position on the sand. The yellow shirted man, who Jim now knew at Hikaru Sulu, laid on his back still knocked out. His breathing was stable and he had no external wounds. 

“Because he doesn’t want to have to explain everything twice.” Jim said matter of factly, jerking his head in Spock’s direction, who was submerged in the water of the cave pool. Jim laid on the sand, picking at the seaweed bandage fashioned by Spock on his shoulder. It was odd for him, being on the other side of the curtain. Sure he still didn’t know entirely what was going on, but this was miles from where he had been when he was the one lying unconscious on the sand.

“That is not strictly true.” Spock countered, his tone still icy since Jim’s snapping at him. “I just think it would be more efficient if we were to wait until…. the other man wakes it.”

“Sulu.” A weak gravely voice echoed from the corner of the cave. “Hikaru Sulu.” 

The yellow shirted man who had once been laying completely out on the floor, dead to the world and all it’s crazy goings ons now sat up and was touching his head delicately. He winced as he reached the bump on his head, but seemed relieved that that was the only injury he seemed to have received. 

“Well now that Mr. Sulu has woken up, I shall begin.” Spock coughed and cleared his throat. Did he look nervous? It had never occurred to Jim that he might have been nervous the first time he met him, and now there were three of them, it was like he was performing for an audience. “You may have to suspend your disbelief for this.”

“Suspend our disbelief?” Scotty appeared flustered, not that Jim could blame him. “We’ve just been attacked by a group of…. a group of… fish people!”

“I believe the correct term is merpeople.” Hikaru noted, earning him a glare from his companion. Good, Jim thought sullenly, at least someone in this cave has a sense of humour.

“Just don’t call them sea freaks and you’ll be fine.” Jim replied dryly. 

“Can I continue?” Spock asked, and when given no response he took in a short breath, and carried on. Jim let his mind wonder, he had heard this before, and he’d lived it not once but twice now. He didn’t need to be lectured again. As he sat, looking at the cave ceiling, he was vaguely aware of every so often the chiming in of Hikaru and Scotty’s questions. He didn’t know what they were saying, but he imagined it was something along the lines of ‘mermaid exist?’. Suddenly he was aware of the silence in the cave, and realised that Spock had concluded his speech. Secretly, he wondered if Spock got a sense of satisfaction out of, shall he say, educating the lesser known humans about the existence of merpeople. 

After the speech had ended, Hikaru and Scotty sat with confused expressions on their faces. Jim decided it was best to let them stew over their newfound information, and edged over to Spock. As he reached the merman, Spock’s calm if a little stern expression had not betrayed itself and was still firmly planted on his face. In fact, it seemed that Spock was making a conciertos effort to ignore Jim, which was bothersome.  
“Spock,” Jim began, lowering his voice halfway through the word into a semi-whisper. “I wanted to apologise.”

 

Spock’s head turned so fast towards him it made Jim recoil back in shock. It was like he had wound up a plastic toy and, in his eagerness to play, had accidentally snapped it. 

“Apologise?” The merman offered only one word, and Jim could not determine whether it was in surprise or condescension. In a ‘why are you surpised?’ way, or a ‘an apology isn’t enough’ way.

“Yeah,” Jim continued, lips more pursed than before. There was an awkward tension in the air. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It was totally uncalled for.”

“And yet you came to help anyway.” Spock said coldly. “So I guess you could say it was totally hugely uncalled for.”

Ah, that milion dollar sarcasm. Jim thought bitterly. How I’ve missed that.

Hikaru looked over that their two saviours, who were deep in conversation, their faces mottled with tension and concern. 

“What are they talking about?” He wondered.

Scotty cast a short glance over his shoulder, before turning back to his friend. “Lover’s quarrel.” He shrugged.

Hikaru stood, and gestured to Spock and Jim. The former swam and the latter shuffled over, and Hikaru fixed them with an intense stare. He was about to get real.

“You mentioned that your... people require a sacrifice. What happens to them?” He asked.

Spock coughed, as if embarrassed to have to spell out the dark practices of his kinfolk. “We… they… take them to the Altar of Sacrifice and sacrifice them.” He said, bluntly, as if he had just solved every unanswered question in the universe.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific there lad.” Scotty replied dryly.

“It doesn’t matter.” Jim muttered, just loudly enough for everyone to hear. “Wise guy here won’t even try to save them.” 

“You think I haven’t tried before?” Spock’s voice shifted into a louder dynamic, and echoed through the cave. “I have tried countless times, and all of them have failed, causing the victims more pain than if I had just left them to begin with. But I couldn’t bring myself to just look away. How about next time you attempt to save hostages from a group of merpeople, and come back to me with how well that turned out.”

“But.” Hikaru interjected. “You’re no longer alone. You have us, and we can help you.”

“We can what?” Scotty replied, shocked. He’d just been dragged to the bottom of the ocean, he was not about to stage a rescue mission. 

Hikaru laid a hand on his comrade’s shoulder. “Jim, what were you wearing on your face when you rescued up, how could you swim underwater?”   
Jim reached into his pocket and produced the breathing mask. With great delicacy he handed it to Hikaru, careful not the tear any of the thin membrane or tangle any of the vines. As much as he felt Spock was being an asshole at the moment, he still appreciated the time and passion it took to make this. Hikaru turned the mask over his hands gently, taking in it’s strange otherworldly appearance and light weight. Then he faced Spock directly, a strong look of determination in his eyes. 

“Can you make two more of these?” He asked. Jim was beginning to like this Hikaru guy, he got straight to the point.

“Of course.” Spock replied. “But why do you need them?” He asked quizzically.

“I think we have a rescue mission on our hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh, who doesn't love a little bit of angst and heroism


	8. The Motions in His Head

This plan was this.

Spock would bring Jim, Hikaru, and Scotty to his kin, claiming they were new captures. So close to the sacrifice the merpeople would take whoever they could find, or so said Spock, although Jim was inclined to believe him thanks to the grave look that washed over his features as he said it. Then together they would rescue Uhura, Bones, and Pavel. It was so simple. It felt like something from a movie.

“It’ll work.” Scotty had said, but Jim couldn’t help but notice the waiver in his voice, the anxiety that betrayed his confident demeanour. “It always works in the movies.”

“You’re forgetting the important fact about movies being fiction.” Hikaru had enunciated the last word with a bitter tone, and Jim recalled glancing over and seeing him hunched over what looked to be a locket. The picture inside had remained miraculously dry, and Jim could just about make out a man and a young girl pictured inside. As Hikaru said this, Jim had felt a rough stab in his gut. This man had a family.

“Well,” Scotty had retorted, his tone dry. It appeared he was nearing wits end, although Jim couldn’t entirely blame him. “This may as well be fiction. If someone turned around and pinched my ass, waking me from this horrible nightmare, I can’t say I’d be angry.”

Now, with the plan somewhat loosely in place, Hikaru and Scotty were talking quietly amongst themselves. Jim could just overhear Scotty reassuring his friend that he would get to see his family again. The familiar stabbing feeling returned.

Jim edged closer to Spock. The merman was floating by himself over in the corner of the pool, muttering quietly to himself. Perhaps he was going over the plan, acting out the motions in his head in such great detail that the ideas were bubbling up in his body and erupting from his mouth, Or perhaps he was trying to remember if he had left the oven on.

The whole time Spock had laid out the plan in front of them, Jim had been struck with the swirling sensation of guilty encompassing his entire body. He felt guilty of snapping at Spock, but most of all he felt guilty for assuming Spock was the enemy. He could relate to Scotty, ever since he’d been stuck in this cave hundreds and thousands of metres below the ocean surface, so far away from where he belonged, on an alien terrain, he had felt like he was in a dream. Every time he closed his eyes, he hoped that when they reopened he would be back where he was familiar - where he belonged. This disassociation from reality took the forefront of his thinking, and he had never even complimented the idea that he would ever be able to rescue his friends. In his mind he had always pictured himself going in alone, like a Herculean figure ready to destroy everything in his path and rescue the damsels in distress. But Jim knew now that that wasn’t true. He was no god, no titan, he couldn’t do this alone.

The guilt that had remained restless in his stomach ever since he had snapped at Spock grew even more present. He could feel it pecking away at him, like a persistent woodpecker who’d mistaken him for a tree and now wouldn’t let go. The reality dawned on him that Spock, Hikaru, and Scotty were risking their lives for him and his friends. That was a heavy weight to bare when the former wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

Jim cleared his throat to grasp the merman’s attention. He still didn’t know what to say, and thought that maybe the act of shifting built up mucus from his throat would start an avalanche of the right things to say. In truth, Jim had never really had to legitimately apologise before. He wasn’t a confrontational type, but he had a penchant for trouble, but he liked to think that he was always fighting for the right side, the good side, therefore an apology wasn’t needed. This was probably not true, he knew, but in times when an apology was due he had managed to breeze by on pure charm alone. Now, however, he knew that he was in the wrong, and he couldn’t sit back anymore and let the guilt gnaw at him anymore.

He coughed again, but Spock didn’t turn around. Jim knew he was listening, because as he coughed a third time, for forcefully this time, he could sense a quick flicker of movement in Spock’s stern eyebrows. He sighed quietly, this was going to be a lot harder than he’d thought. Oh well, he thought. If Spock wasn’t going to acknowledge him, he’d just have to talk into the void, but he was going to talk, he was going to do this.

“I… uh… I wanted to apologise.” He stopped, swallowing hard, and then continued. “I was a real… uh… asshole to you. I treated you like the enemy when that wasn’t true at all. In fact, it was more like the opposite.” Jim paused, leaving an opening for Spock to respond. When he didn’t, and didn’t even turn an eyeball in Jim’s direction, he kept talking. Anything to fill the silence encasing them both. “I realised, when you were talking about the plan. I saw the determination in your eyes and I knew that I had been wrong. I should have realised the minute I met you. You saved my life, you’re going to save my friends, you made me a freaking _breathing mask_!” He stopped to take a breath, and could feel himself faltering. He felt blush trickle into his cheeks. “I guess I’m just a bit out of my element here, so I may have acted… Not to say that I’m shifting the blame off myself… Because I really was an asshole, the biggest… uh, worst… shittiest asshole in all of the land… I, uh, don’t really know where I’m going with this now.”

Jim stopped and took in a long breath. This was torture. He could feel his words hanging over the both of them and his stomach and chest churned and swilled each individual character, colon, and semicolon around and around. He began to wonder if what he said had been sufficient. He’d never really been good at apologising, and could usually think of a thousand reasons why he wasn’t in the wrong and being sorry wasn’t necessary. However, this time he knew he was the one who needed to face the humility of his mistakes, but he wasn’t well oiled to this mindset.

“Look, you don’t have to accept my apology. Just… just think about it okay? For me?” He said, his eyes pressing downwards at his own hands, his fingers wrestling each other in anxiety.

Spock didn’t look at him for a long time, and instead seemed to have his eyes keenly trained on a small tendril of seaweed floating idly in the tiny waves in front of him. Jim cast his eyes downwards once again, and as he did he thought he could catch the flicker of Spock’s eyes turning towards him out of the corner of his vision. Jim’s eyes snapped back to the merman, only to find that he was still staring at that seaweed, completely static like he was a glitch on a television set. Jim sighed. He hadn’t expected Spock to forgive him, but it still stung.

“You have a crab on your head.”

The words caught him off guard, and he returned his gaze to the merman. He swore he hadn’t even seen his lips move.

“What?” He said, the disbelief and confusion echoing from his mouth across the cave’s stalactites.

Spock still didn’t turn towards him, but Jim was sure he could see the curl of a smile on his lips. “You have a crab on your head.”

Jim reached up, fumbling slowly on his head, only stopping when he felt the hard shell of what could not be mistaken for anything else. There was a crab on his head. Jim jerked his head violently, half in shock and half in a calculated movement to shift the creature from his body. Praying that he wouldn’t lose an ear in the process, Jim watched the crab sail through the air in front of him and land with a muffled plop in the water of the pool. Then it swam away from him and Jim was sure that if it had opposable fingers, it would have flipped him off.

A chuckle brought Jim’s attention away from the crab. Spock was now looking at him, the glee apparent in his eyes. Jim suddenly realised he hadn’t ever seen Spock laugh before. It was an odd sight, but not odd in a bad way. The merman’s dark eyes creased in the corners and Jim could clearly make out two distinct dimples grace both corners of his mouth. It was glorious sight, and Jim could feel something swell inside him, like his heart was suddenly growing larger and stronger.

“Well,” He said, forcing himself to keep a somewhat complacent demeanour. “It seems you’ve cheered up.”

Spock opened his mouth to reply, and a clap of thunder echoed in the distance, drawing his attention away and wiping the smile from his face, replaced now with a look of determination. Jim imagined that if Spock had been wearing a watch, he would be checking it now, like some kind of spy from the movies.

“We should get ready to leave.” Spock said. “It’s nearly time for the sacrifice.”

He waved Hikaru and Scotty over, and they joined, the four of them forming a circle in the water. Glancing over the two, Jim couldn’t help but notice the grimace on Scotty’s face, and the red puffiness of Hikaru eyes.

“I have something to give each of you.” Spock said reaching into a seaweed satchel strapped around his body. He pulled out three breathing masks, although these looked different than the one Jim had been given before. They were bigger for one thing, and seemed much more robust, and Jim could make out some kind of box inside, although the jelly like texture of the mask forbade his eyes from making out any details.

“Put them on.” Spock said. “And come under the water with me, I want to test something out.”

“Test something out.” Scotty mumbled. “That gives me a lot of confidence about this mission.”

The three entered the waves, and Jim could make out the surprised expressions on both Hikaru and Scotty’s faces as they took their first breath under the waves.

“It’ll feel weird at first.” Spock’s voice echoed through the water, sounding a little distorted and bubbly but otherwise clear and calm. Jim realised that he’d never heard Spock speak underwater before. Why would he? It wasn’t as if he could answer back. “But you’ll get used to it. You’ll have to. Jim, I need you to do something for me.”

Jim nodded.

“I need to you talk to me, say anything.”

That was a lot of pressure, and Jim could feel it all suddenly topple on top of him. He made a gesture to Spock, a way to say ‘What should I say?’.

“Anything.” Spock replied, his voice reassuring.

Jim decided to say the first thing that came to his mind. Which, in hindsight, had been a mistake. “You’re cute.” He blurted, and was surprised to find that his voice echoed throughout the waves. Great, he thought. First time talking underwater and I say something stupid, nice going.

“Interesting choice.” Hikaru said slowly, looking just as surprised at his talkative nature underwater as he was with his ability to breathe.

“Yeah buddy.” Scotty added. “You know we can all hear you.”

Jim could feel the blush creeping through his cheeks, and he thanked whatever powers may be that the water was cool enough to stop him from turning into some sort of human tomato hybrid.

Spock made a motion for them all to rise, and once at the surface he spoke. “I’ve fitted these masks with speaking devices. It’ll be better if we can communicate underwater.” He paused, perhaps checking to see if anyone had any objections to this technical addition. Clearly no one did. He continued. “We should head out now, if we want plenty of time to extract the hostages before the sacrifice.”

“What do we do if everything goes pear shaped?” Jim asked, as equally curious as he was to shift the attention off his blunder from before.

“Don’t worry about that. I have something.” Spock said calmly.

“A secret weapon?” Jim was beginning to feel as though he was living in a work of fiction, filled with plot devices and deus ex machinas.

“Of sorts.” Spock replied nonchalantly.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Jim, I don’t want to condescend you.” Spock said. “I assume you know what secret means, or perhaps you would like me to explain it to you?”

Jim could feel himself blushing again. “Alright wise guy.” He replied. He could start to feel the adrenaline pumping itself around his veins, this was happening now.

“Let’s do this.” Spock smiled slyly. “Of course, we should get this done in a pinch.”

Jim blinked. _Did he… did he just make a pun?_


End file.
